*attention everyone*

I have a new viola.

Happy Valentine's Day to the Keebler Family!!

Autism occurs in 1 in 150 children. The Keebler family realized that not one, but two of their three boys had autism four years ago. Mr. and Mrs. Keebler's lives became filled with taking Joshua and Caleb to therapy, researching other treatments and doctors appointments. They have to be some of the most selfless people I know. Hearing them talk about how the Lord has greatly blessed them in the midst of trials is incredible.


Our family met the Keeblers about six months ago when they began attending our church. My younger sister and I started going to their home once a week to work (and play) with Joshua, age nine, Caleb, age seven, and Aaron, age four. Working with special needs kids is amazing. Getting excited with Mrs. Keebler when Caleb learns to sign a new word, when Joshua starts to write stories, when Aaron sings, praying with Mrs. Keebler for her boys.

Last week I called Mrs. Keebler told her that we were planning on watching her kids so she and Mr. Keebler could go out to eat in celebration of Valentine's Day. After they got back from the restaurant they told us that this was the first time in six years that had gone anywhere by themselves.

Mr. and Mrs. Keebler are mistaken. Yes, we might be a blessing to them, but they bless us in their example and testimony in a way they will never know

Passionate Housewives Book Giveaway!!

Head over to The Maxson Family Blog to enter.

http://maxsons.blogspot.com/2008/02/passionate-housewives-giveaway.html

Me, her Mom?

The other day Momma, Carrissa and I were going garage saleing. After we finished hitting the ones from the newspaper we headed home. We saw a sign. For a garage sale.

We turned down the road and drove and drove and drove. We were "officially" in the boonies. Reaching the sale Mom instructed us to look around and tell here if there was anything worth getting. Carrissa poked through the books as I started looking through the kitchen gadgets.

A sweet lady (who was getting on in years) hobbled up to me and said with a southern drawl "Honey, if you would like any of these here plaid shirts for your husband, you can have 'em-for free!" Turning to my sister she said "If your mammy will let you have any of those toys they are yours for no charge."

After thanking her profusely and turning down her kind offer Carrissa and I headed to the car. Perhaps the fact I am really tall for my age had something to do with it.

What exactly is a viola?

A viola is..

...pronounced vee-oh-la, as opposed to vye-o-la

...is 2 inched bigger than a violin

...has an A, D, G, and a C string

...is lower pitched that a violin

Actually, I am a Violist

When carrying my viola around to different events (church, weddings, gigs), I always get asked or told one of the following:

Ahh, how sweet! You and your sister playing violin and cello together...

How do you like violin?

Is that a violin?

I loved how you played your violin.

Is your violin in tune? It sounds awfully flat.
My reply:

"Why, thank you (if their comment is positve), actually I play viola"

Sometimes, they know what one is but most of the time people do not. Being able to tell people what I play and what it is is one of the many reasons I love playing viola.

Adventures in the Kitchen With Tallie
Warning: This is not something you should read right before eating.

Today was my turn to make bread and our dinner. Being extremely organized (clears throat), I started last night. After completing the bread, I set out the necessary ingredients for Beef Stroganoff, which included a frozen beef round. After placing the round (still attached to the bone) in a Ziploc bag to defrost, I went to bed, planning to get up before the rooster and put the ingredients in the crock pot.

My handy dandy alarm clock (my sister Carrissa) stumbled into my room around 6:11 saying "Sorry Tallie, I overslept. Wake up!!!" After dragging my protesting body down the stairs I poked my finger at the round. Good. It was quite defrosted. Flipping on the light, I squinted my eyes and then opened them wide in shock.

There was something red all over the counter. I gasped. My nose filled with the salty/metallic smell of, you guessed it. Blood. Cow's blood. Sally Mae's blood to be exact. The pretty brown cow that formerly lived at me Grandpop's farm. I had petted and fed her. Now her blood was ALL OVER the counter. Resisting the urge to scream and pushing non-vomitous thoughts into my head. Thoughts like: You are in a meadow with lovely flowers around you. Inhale the lovely smell of, ummmm, blood.

The blood had leaked through the protective wrapping of the plastic and Ziploc. At least 1 and a 1/2 cups of blood was splattered on my formerly spotless kitchen counter. A homemade pecan pie, was surrounded by blood. The plastic wrap covering the pie had blood all around it. When I tried to pull the wrap off the pie, Sally's salmonella infested blood plopped on it. Great. Just great. Our pie with Texas pecans was destined to the dump. Not finding any plastic gloves, I sopped up most of the blood with paper towels and then anti-bacterial wipes, dish detergent and scorching hot water. I glanced down at my robe. The sleeve had dragged in the blood. Joy was written all over my face. I put the robe in the wash and finished sterilizing the counter and throwing the pecan pie away.

Mom told me I should have had a plate underneath the beef. Lest you think I know absolutely nothing about cooking, I do not cook with beef that much because I am mildly allergic. (Not so allergic anyone walks by with a roast beef sandwich I have to go to the ER, but enough that I avoid it if at all possible.)